𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐒 two years ago, my life changed forever. All it took was one night to alter the rest of my life. I wasn't sure about a lot of things however, there are two things that I was absolutely certain on: what I wanted to wear and who...
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I shoot upright in bed, grab the Glock under my pillow when I hear the front door slam shut. Straining my ears, I wait for any sort of noise but when the sound of Carter's familiar laugh echoes around the entire house because he's so fucking loud, I tuck the gun back under my pillow and take a deep breath.
Not sure who it could be. Haven't seen Haysie in almost two weeks. She's been up in Surrey and I've been training. My fights on Friday, it's currently two in the morning on Wednesday. I did ask Harper if she wanted me to come up for Sunday dinner last week but she insisted I didn't—so I didn't.
I lean back against my headboard, trying to calm my breathing. My door flings open then, Harper standing there in a Burberry trench coat even though it's August. "Hi," she smiles, sauntering over to my side of the bed and sitting down.
"What you doing here?" I look her over, she looks fine, seems fine. Something does feel off, though, can't tell what it is.
Harper smiles again, first time her smiles ever weirded me out. She doesn't say anything, just leans over and skims her lips across my jaw. "Aren't you going to ask why I'm wearing a coat in the middle of summer?"
I sit up straighter, wonder when she got back from her Mums—must've been earlier tonight. "Why are you wearing a coat in the middle of summer, Haysie?"
"Well," she giggles, stands up, pulls one side of the belt around her coat and lets it drop to my floor. She stands there, the moonlight from my French doors wrapping her up in this silvery glow. My mouth goes dry. She's wearing this little get-up that gets me hard instantly—I'm talking bra, knickers, stockings, the thing around her waist that keeps them up. Her hair's up like it was at my party, the messy sort of bun in the middle of her head.
Still doesn't explain why she's here in the middle of the night, though—I mean, I know why she's here. Just a bit weird? Bit over the top? Bit not like her? She knows if she wanted sex all she had to do was text me.
She straddles my lap, moving till she's sitting right on top of my dick. Her head tilts, her hands run through my hair. "I missed you."
My hands stay planted firmly on her hips, one hand roaming lower, over her arse. She's smooth, freshly waxed. She's come prepared which means...she planned this?
"Yeah? I missed you too," I move my lips with hers, trying to capture them but she keeps pulling away, darting her tongue out to lick my cheek.
"Mm," She hums, falling into me, becoming putty in my hands as she usually does. Something is so off about this, though. If I didn't know better, I'd say she was drunk but I know she drove to her Mums which means she drove back. She also smells purely of Chanel Mademoiselle.
Harper leans back, resting her hands on my bare chest. I glance down between us, grab her thigh. "Nice surprise but what are you doing here so late?"
She does a little huff, rolls her eyes. Makes me want to fuck her even more. "Oh, sorry? Did I wake you up from your beauty sleep? Maybe I should just go—is Albie home?"
